Intertwined
by jhawk
Summary: Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley are in their seventh and sixth years at Hogwarts School. But this year something is different. Ginny has a dark secret, and Draco finds that he will do anything to find out what it is. But will his discoveries be fatal?
1. Prologue

One thing was for certain. The Dark Mark hurt. A lot.  
The newly black-cloaked figure bit their lip hard, trying to stifle the yell of pain that was threatening to escape their mouth and pierce the silence of the night.  
The long, ghostly white fingers continued to stroke the exposed forearm of the newly appointed Deatheater.   
The other Deatheaters stood in a circle, surrounding their master and their newest ally. Though each of their faces was shrouded in black and concealed from outside view, they were all smiling coldly as they watched the newest being admitted to their group.   
As Voldemort continued to etch the Mark onto the skin of the hooded and masked figure, he gave a demonic smile. The satisfaction of being able to shoot the sharp, black flames out of his fingertips and fix them into the shape of the skull and serpent onto the flesh of a supporter once again was wonderful.  
The Dark Lord's blood-red eyes glittered as he imagined the look of pain that must be contorting the face behind the mask of his new recruit.  
Forcibly and mercilessly, Voldemort thrusted the last of the black, gleaming flame into the fully formed Mark upon the Deatheaters arm.  
The figure's battle to fight the pain seemed to have been forgotten. With the last of the searing flame pushed into their skin, the Deatheater gave a raspy yelp and a violent wrench. They sank to the ground, whimpering, and clutching their newly marked forearm.   
"You don't know how much it excites me to finally have you in my midst, young Deatheater," Voldemort said softly, looking down at the figure that was slumped on the ground, trembling uncontrollably. Obviously the pain was still lingering. Voldemort looked on in satisfaction.  
"I have always known that you had potential," Voldemort continued, a sly smile inching worm-like across his pale face, "And I've watched you for many years, waiting for the day that you would join me. And now that you are sixteen, you are finally the right age to be of service to me and the rest of my supporters."  
Voldemort indicated the circle of Deatheaters that was surrounding him and the young Deatheater.  
The newly hooded figure on the ground nodded wordlessly, holding their arm up to inspect it more closely. The Dark Mark glittered in a ray of moonlight, making Voldemort's smile grow wider still.  
"Your father would have been very proud to see you finally fulfilling your destiny," Voldemort said so quietly that only the Deatheater in the middle of the circle could hear him.  
The hooded head at Voldemorts feet rose a few inches at the mention of their father.  
"I know he would have," They said in a barely audible voice, some coldness seeping into their tone, "I know."  
"Your father was a loyal Deatheater," Voldemort remarked, more loudly this time, making a point to gaze at each Deatheater that was forming the barrier around him. "He was an expert at concealing his loyalty to the Dark Order from the rest of the Wizarding world. You will follow in his footsteps, I trust?"  
"Yes Master," said the firm voice from behind the hood.  
"Good, good," Voldemort said, smiling in a snake-like manner, "I can only hope that that you will not be quite as foolish as your father. Recklessly brave he was, a faithful supporter, yes. But he was too willing to do anything to gain more respect from me." Voldemort turned away from the new Deatheater and spoke softly into the night.  
"That was how he met his death," The Dark Lord hissed, "That was an unnecessary loss of a good supporter.   
The circle of Deatheaters that werre surrounding Voldemort shifted slightly. Voldemort snapped at them. "All of you may go now! Go back to your homes. I will summon you when I need you."  
The Deatheaters looked quizzically at each other, but upon seeing Voldemorts livid face they quickly and silently dissaparated, leaving him along with his new supporter.  
Voldemort suddenly whirled around to face his newest member, who gave a slight jump, but recovered almost at once.  
"You will not meet the same fate as your father, I trust. You will not fail me in the end," he whispered venomously. It wasn't a question. His eyes flashed and his upper lip curled.  
The Deatheater seemed to regain new courage at his words. They straightened up and stood  tall as they faced Voldemort.  
"I will not fail you, Master," they said strongly and determinedly.  
They reached up with a steady fist and removed their black hood, looking Voldemort in the eyes.  
"I will not fail you or the Dark Order," they finished, eyes gleaming as much as Voldemorts own.  
"Very well," Voldemort said, his mouth curling into an amused smile, "You may leave now. May you be forever faithful."   
The young Deatheater kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes, then straitened up.   
And Voldemort watched as Ginny Weasley disapparated swiftly and silently into the darkness.


	2. Ch1

*          *          *

Draco Malfoy muttered darkly as he sat on his bed and pulled his gray Hogwarts sweater over his head. He strode quickly across his room to his mirror, his bare feet flying swiftly over the cold floor. As he picked up his green and gray striped tie and adjusted it accordingly, he made a face at his reflection.

"Why am I not happier?" he said out loud as he combed his sunshine locks, "I mean, I get to go back to school for another whole year! Back to insane teachers and mountains of homework," he finished sarcastically. 

As he finished slicking a final strand of hair into place, a new wave of impatience washed over him.

"A school full of incompetent little prats who think they're better than everyone else just because they defeated a wizard by accident when they were too young to even remember doing it," Draco growled with gritted teeth, growing angrier by the minute.

He wasn't looking forward to spending yet another year with Potter. In Dracos opinion, being force fed poison was better than having to see that dumb face with that stupid scar every day. Maybe even throw a few Cockroach Clusters in with the poison, and then it would still be better than Harry Potter.

Draco glanced at the silver clock on his wall as he reached under his bed for his socks and shoes. Seeing that it was near time to leave he quickened his pace, knowing that his father hated to be late for anything.

Remembering that his trunks containing all his school supplies and his broomstick were downstairs already, Draco grabbed a black cloak from a hook by his door and swept down the marble staircase that led to the entry way.

As he descended the mountainous steps, his reflection in the mirrors that encrusted the surrounding walls followed him. Draco rolled his eyes at all the glass panels, and twenty Dracos rolled their eyes with him. Draco never thought that all the mirrors that adorned the Malfoy Manor were necessary, but he had never argued the fact with his father. Lucius just said they were for effect, and that they saved some wall space from being bedecked with the hideous paintings that Narcissa liked to decorate with. But Draco doubted that this was the whole truth. More than once he had caught his father walking down a mirrored hallway, head held high, admiring the effect of his flowing cloaks in multiple reflections. Sometimes, Lucius would even descend a staircase in this manner; only to reach the bottom, then go back up just to float down again when he thought no one was looking.

Draco laughed outright as the memory of his fathers out of character antics hit him full force. He stuck his chin into the air and reached both arms behind him, spreading his black cloak out like a bats wings. And strutting like a proud hen, he began to flounce down the stairs in a manner of imitation.

He grinned wickedly as he gazed at his reflection adoringly as he had seen his father do on so many occasions. He was midway through a sweeping twirl when a surprised voice cut sharply through the house, seeming to reverberate off the mirrors. 

"Draco? What in the name of Merlin's Beard are you doing?"

Draco halted a look of horror on his face. Lucius Malfoy was standing at the base of the stairs, eyebrows raised, a slightly amused smile curling his lips. His midnight black robes were edged in emerald green, his crisp blonde hair tied back with a black satin ribbon.

"I do believe that you have to be getting on the school train very shortly," Lucius said coolly, looking up at his son, "And I wasn't aware they started teaching you ballet at Hogwarts. New class program I assume?" he finished calmly.

Draco felt shame creep into his expression as he rushed to stand next to his father.

"Er, no Father. I'm sorry about the delay," Draco stammered quickly, "Shall we get a move on?"

As Draco hurried out the huge oak doors and onto the front porch where his trunks were waiting he heard his father's exasperated mutter from behind him.

"I knew we should have sent him to Durmstrang. Next thing you know he will be singing opera while he bathes."

Draco sighed and tried to remember that at Hogwarts there would at least be no Lucius Malfoy to deal with. Not that he didn't love and respect his father, he just got tired of Lucius's rare gift of making anyone who spoke to him want to gouge his eyes out with their wand.

Lucius stepped onto the porch next to his son as soon as a slight breeze began to lift the hems of their cloaks.

"Draco, I do not want to receive any owls this year from your school," Lucius said, adjusting the sleeves of his elegant cloak, "I have better things to do than read letter after letter from that twit of a Headmaster about your bad behavior."

"Yes, Father," Draco said automatically.

"If you insist on breaking the rules, don't do it publicly under the teachers prying eyes," Lucius said with command.

"Yes, Father," Draco said again, getting impatient.

"Very good," Lucius said briskly, "We'd best be off. Come, Draco, hands on your trunk. I would like to be out of here before your mother comes home and begins carrying on about her baby leaving for a whole year." He reached down himself and grabbed a handle on his son's caged eagle owl. "You would think the woman would be used to it by now," Lucius muttered to himself, "The boy has been going to the same school for six years."

Draco struggled to keep a smirk from adorning his face. He never got tired of his parents unusual relationship. They loved each other very much, but they preferred not to show it too blatantly in public. Apparently, Draco thought, even he was considered to be public.

Still, the memory of his father telling Narcissa that he needed her to go to Hogsmeade to pick up some more Butterbeer for a party at the Manor right away was rather comical. Especially since Lucius had no intention of throwing a party anytime in the near future.

"All right Draco, let's get to it, we have about eight minutes before the train leaves," Lucius remarked. And the next thing Draco knew, his father had disapparated.

Draco made sure he had a firm hold on his two trunks, and then turned his head to see behind him for a last look at his house. The Malfoy Manor stood tall and regally upon it's hill, casting a long shadow over everything in front of it. To Draco, it had always seemed very ominous and threatening for something as essential as a house, but he knew his father liked it that way.

"Well, I'm off," Draco said no to no one in particular, and being very careful to picture his destination clearly, he disapparated, off to start another school year.

When Draco reappeared next to the barrier that led to Platform 9 and ¾, his father was nowhere in sight. Draco figured that he had just gone through the barrier to the platform without waiting for him, unwilling to spend even a few moments surrounded by Muggles.

Draco looked around. The big clock hanging on the wall read 10:53. He checked to make sure no one was watching, then slumped halfheartedly through the barrier. He didn't even bother to put his trunks onto a trolley, they weren't all that heavy considering the fact that they contained all his regular school supplies, not to mention his Quidditch gear and Nimbus 2001.

Suddenly, Draco was standing inside Platform 9 and ¾, beholding the usual hustle and bustle of students running back and forth, yelling greetings to their friends, loading their luggage onto the train and saying goodbye to their parents. And in the midst of all the chaos, the great scarlet Hogwarts Express stood humming steadily, reading itself for the long journey ahead. 

"Draco! Over here!" Draco heard his fathers call and dragged his trunks over to him. Lucius was standing by a sliding luggage compartment door on the side of the train. Draco let his father stack his eagle owl on top of the many trunks that were already in the storage space before loading his own two trunks. Then Draco straightened up and faced his father.

"Well Draco, off to your last year at Hogwarts," Lucius said formally. Then he lowered his voice to a whisper, "Then maybe you will finally take your place in the family business…"

"Father," Draco shouted, looking around wildly, then spoke in a hushed voice, "We've talked about this before, please, not right here, there are too many people around.

Lucius looked at the pleading look on his sons face.

"I am sick of your delay, Draco," he said viciously, prodding Draco rather harder than necessary in the chest with his silver-topped cane, "You could have joined us when you were sixteen! But I put up with your idiotic excuse that you wanted to finish school without any distraction. I even let you get away with calling what I do a "distraction"!" 

Draco sighed and let his shoulders slump, tired of playing this game with his father. It was like a continuous cat and mouse game between them, only Draco knew that in the end the Cat that was his father would trap the mouse into a corner, leaving the mouse no choice but to contend with the will of the cat. Either that or be chewed up and spit out like bad meat.

"Father, I just need some time to think about it, that's all," Draco protested desperately.

"Think about it?" Lucius hissed, growing extremely red in the face, "What is there to think about boy? It is your destiny as a Malfoy."

"Is it?" Draco asked, shaking his head unbelievably. Lucius grabbed the collar of Draco's robes forcefully and spoke directly into his face.

"You had better watch what you say, Draco," Lucius growled venomously, eyes narrowed, "Or else you might find yourself in a very sticky situation. I will see you next year."

Lucius shoved himself away as he released his hold on Dracos collar. Then he straightened up, brushed his hands on his cloak and sauntered away from his son, chin held stubbornly high.

Draco watched his retreating back, sadness and anger coursing through him in equal amounts. Finally, he turned and slammed the full storage compartment door shut with so much force that the owls inside shrieked in their cages and a passing group of nervous first years jumped three feet into the air. Dracos bad mood was elevated to a new level.

"Out of the way," he snarled as he pushed his way in between two of the new students. They parted and let him go by, identical expressions of terror on their faces.

Draco stalked around near the back of the train, hoping to find Crabbe and Goyle somewhere. He could do well with a conversation with the two of them. Actually, Draco wouldn't really call it conversation, since he did all of the talking and Crabbe and Goyle just nodded in agreement to whatever he said, but still, it was comforting. He could tell them anything and they would always make him feel like he was right, then they would forget everything the next day. 

Sure enough, Draco found the two huge boys standing outside a compartment door near the end of the train stuffing their faces full of chocolate frogs.

"Hello boys," Draco said, adopting the authority facade he always wore around them, "How goes it?"

Crabbe and Goyle both grunted, neither having the ability to speak due to their massive chocolate intake.

"You will not believe what a bad morning I had," Draco began, but was distracted by a loud yell, followed by the sound of uproarious laughter.

"What the…" Draco said, looking around and trying to find the source of the commotion. "Come on," he said, beckoning to Crabbe and Goyle who followed after scooping up the remainder of their chocolate frogs.

Draco rounded one of the stone columns that stood all over the platform. The source of laughter was coming from behind a column next to a compartment near the middle of the train. Two people were sprawled out on the ground, snickering heartily. Draco caught a flash of bright red hair and a flash of glasses among the rolling pair.

"So, Potter, Weasley," Draco drawled, starting to suddenly feel better, "I see you have finally figured out where you belong. Here, on the ground, not on the train or at the school."

"Pity you can't figure out where you belong, Malfoy," Harry said looking up and spotting his school rival, "But I suppose even _you don't have enough money to buy a one-way ticket to Hell."_

Draco sneered at Harry, feeling his enmity towards him blossom as it always did when he came into contact with him.

"But I suppose you're used to the ground, Weasley," Draco shot at Ron steely, "With that run down shack of yours and that low class wizard fool you have for a father, you must feel right at home."

To Draco's surprise, Ron didn't retaliate, on the contrary he grew very pale and quiet and his head fell.

Harry glanced at Ron, pity in his eyes, then quickly rose and pulled Draco by the arm to the other side of the pillar.

"Didn't you hear, Malfoy?" Harry hissed, looking at Draco in disbelief.

"Hear about what?" Draco asked, confused, pulling his arm stubbornly away from Harry.

"Rons dad died this summer, Malfoy," Harry said softly.

Dracos eyes widened in shock, his mouth fell open.

"Yeah," Harry said, looking at Draco in disgust, "He's having a really hard time, so don't be such a jerk for once in your life."

"If he's so sad, why were the two of you laughing your heads off about five seconds ago?" said an irritated Draco.

"We were just having fun, Malfoy," Harry said, shaking his head, a sad sort of expression on his face, "It helps Ron to take his mind off…off…"

"Yeah," Draco said, nodding and looking over at Ron, "All right."

"Now go and say you're sorry to him," Harry said directly.

Dracos head snapped back to Harry. "What? You have got to be kidding me. I am not apologizing to Weasley."

"Well, you'd better, unless you want to be spitting slugs the whole ride to Hogwarts," Harry said with raised eyebrows, his wand suddenly out of his pocket and pointing straight at Draco.

Draco shot Harry a nasty look and reluctantly stalked over to where Ron was still sitting.

"Sorry, Weasley," he said shortly. Ron looked up, his wide eyes very bright as he stared into Dracos face.

"Yeah, ok," he croaked, his voice cracking.

"Happy now, Potter?" Draco growled as he passed Harry on his way to find a compartment.

"Actually, yes," Harry said, grinning, "You are all too thoughtful, Draco."

"Can it, Potter," Draco snapped, reaching for the nearest compartment door handle. Crabbe and Goyle, who had resumed eating their Chocolate Frogs, quickly, followed Draco to the train door. Draco pulled it open in a rage and was promptly sprayed with a thick liquid that smelled like rotten eggs.

"Bloody Hell!" Draco bellowed, wiping the substance from his eyes.

From behind him he heard a whoop of laughter. Draco turned around, extremely aware of how red his face must be.

"I suppose this is your doing," he growled fiercely as he saw that Harry and Ron were once again laughing, Harry leaning on the pillar for support.

"You wanted to know why we were laughing before, Malfoy, now you know!" Ron said, suddenly more cheery, in between fits of laughter.

"Oh, now you laugh, Weasley," Draco said, looking disgusted, "Enjoy it while you can, you and your stupid practical joke."

"Ah, but Mr. Malfoy," Harry chided, "It is not a stupid joke, in fact, we like to think of it as a brilliant joke! We rigged the door handle to spray anyone who tried to open it with Gobstone Goo."

"Big deal," Draco muttered, "You're still an annoying little git."

"And you, Mr. Malfoy, are victim number twenty-four of our "stupid" practical joke," Ron said calmly, a wicked glint in his eye and a slight grin on his face.

Draco threw them both a detesting look and grabbed a handful of Goyle's robes which he used to wipe his face off. Goyle didn't even notice. Draco shook his head, pathetic. There was no way Crabbe and Goyle could ever be the sort of friends like Potter and Weasley. They would never have the brains to pull off a trap that could fool twenty-four people, not to mention the fact that they probably couldn't even count to twenty-four.

He decided not to pursue any more Potter-Weasley verbal battles and began to walk off. After all, there was plenty of time for that at the school; they would be stuck there for another year after all. 

Draco started to turn and tell Crabbe and Goyle to pay attention and follow him, but as he opened his mouth he decided not to say anything after all. He wasn't really in the mood to watch them fill their decidedly large stomachs with sweets. Besides, it would be amusing to see if they actually remembered to get on the train without being told.

As Draco stalked down the aisle, trying to find an empty compartment he pushed aside a group of second year Hufflepuffs that were standing right in the middle of the hall. They gazed up into his cold eyes then down at the Slytherin crest embroidered on his robes. And, with one good sneer from the mighty Slytherin's lips, they scampered down the aisle, looking over their shoulders with wide eyes.

Draco smirked, satisfied. He still had the gift of striking fear into all the little kiddies' hearts. Now if only it would work on the infamous Potter…

Draco gazed into the window of an empty compartment, then pushed the sliding door open and stood in the threshold. He was about to sit down when something in the corner stirred, and Draco gave a yell.

Someone was already in the compartment, curled up in the corner reading a book. Their figure was so hunched and small that he hadn't even noticed them! But that tumble of firey locks could only mean one thing…

"Weasley," Draco stated, casually leaning against the wall.

Ginny looked up from her book, a blank expression on her face. Draco found himself to be a bit startled; she wasn't the same Ginny he remembered from her previous years at Hogwarts. That Ginny had always been a little girl, shy, rather mousy and squeaky. But the girl in front of him had grown, well, he wasn't too sure how she had grown really. There wasn't a drastic change in her appearance, but her face…her face was different. It looked almost colder than it had before, her eyes very distant and aloof, as if over the summer she had gained five years on her sixteen year old self.

"Draco," Ginny said calmly, addressing him then fixing her eyes to the pages of her book once more.

Draco didn't say anything. For the first time in his life he did not have anything to say to a Weasley. There was something very wrong with Ginny, and he didn't know if he wanted to find out what it was.

As he continued to stand there, Ginny looked up once more, impatience etched all over her face.

"Did you want something?" she asked coolly, eyebrows raised.

"Erm, no," Draco said, startled by her sudden question, "I was just looking for someplace to sit, that's all."

"Then why are you still standing?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"Can I ask you a question?" Draco said, forehead scrunched up in confusion.

"If you must," Ginny sighed as she turned a page.

"Are you feeling all right?" he said directly.

Ginny looked up, her brown eyes suddenly very dark.

"Can I ask _you_ a question, Draco?" she asked innocently.

"Sure," Draco replied as a grin overtook his face.

"What is wrong with you?!" Ginny screeched, throwing her book down and shooting up to face him. Draco took a step backwards as she advanced on him. She had gotten taller, he noticed. 

"I had a very rough summer, Draco!" she yelled, her red hair quivering as she shook with rage, "And I do not appreciate you coming in and making it worse!"

"Look, I'm sorry about your Dad," Draco said quickly, "I know it must feel awful-"

"No, no! No, you don't know how it feels!" Ginny said more quietly, some tears beginning to gather at the corner of her eyes, "No body knows how it feels…" she trailed off.

"What? Haven't you talked to your brothers and mother?" Draco asked her, quite disturbed by her actions.

"Even they don't know everything," Ginny said in a low voice, turning and gazing out the window."

Openly confused, Draco decided not to keep the subject going. Instead, he stooped and grabbed Ginny's book from the floor and looked at the cover.

"Ah, Hogwarts: A History," he said, handing it back to her as she turned back around, "Have you gotten to the part about where they imported the Giant Squid from that town in Scotland?"

Ginny wiped her eyes on her sleeve and looked at him in alarm. "You've read it?" she asked, her head tilted wonderingly.

Draco gave a low chuckle. "You wouldn't believe how boring it can get in that big old house of mine during the summer," Draco explained.

"Well, I sure would love to try it sometime!" Ginny said, her face breaking out into the first smile he had seen from her so far, "I wouldn't mind a couple hundred servents waiting on me hand and foot!"

"Actually, we only have about fifty," Draco said, grinning, but that was my count at least three months ago. Who knows how many more have been hired since then!"

Ginny laughed, her eyes sparkling, Draco laughed too, happy that he made her smile.

Wait, did he really just think that? Draco stopped laughing abruptly; and Ginny stopped too, identical expressions of surprise on their faces. Draco shook himself mentally. Was he going soft? Or was he only being nice to her since her father had just passed away? He certainly hoped the latter was the case, or he might have to admit himself to St. Mungo's in the matter of a few days.

"Well, I'll be getting along now," Draco said awkwardly, glancing at Ginny out of the corner of his eye.

"You won't be staying, you mean?" she asked, sitting down again.

"Erm, no," Draco said, moving closer to the door.

"But I thought, well, now that we're both…oh nevermind," Ginny sighed, watching him, her cheeks turning slightly pink, "I suppose you still don't want to be seen with a Weasley."

"Exactly," Draco said shortly, turning and shutting the compartment door after him.

"Even though we're probably more alike than you think," Ginny whispered into the silence.


	3. Ch2

*          *          *

The ride to Hogwarts was a very uneventful one. Draco passed the time in his empty compartment by taking out a big bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans that he had stuffed in the pocket of his robes before he departed for school that morning, and seeing how many times in a row he could toss one up in the air then catch it in his mouth. Peppermint being his favorite, he picked all those out first and started tossing. 

By the time he was down to the last few beans, the outside sky had grown dark, and was spotted with stars. The train began slowing down, telling him that they were very close to Hogwarts. So Draco grabbed the last bean out of the bag, crumbled the bag and stuck it in his pocket. Just as he flipped the last bean into the air, a loud knock sounded on his compartment door, making him jump and choke on the honey flavored bean.

As his eyes watered and stung, he coughed violently, doubled up in discomfort. Red faced and still sputtering uncontrollably, he looked towards the door. Crabbe and Goyle were standing there without the slightest expression on their faces.

"You dolts!" Draco yelled as loudly as he could, "What are you trying to do, kill me?" As he resumed hacking he struggled over to the door and threw it open just as the train came to a complete halt.

"Get out of my way!" he snapped and pushed Crabbe and Goyle aside, his face even more crimson than before. 

The hallway was filling with students all robed in black, laughing and shouting to one another, anticipating the new year that was about to begin.

As Draco finally made his way off the train and into the crisp, evening air his coughing finally stopped and he could breathe deeply once more. As he pulled his robes around himself, he noticed that all the students except for the first years were already loading into the carriages that were to take them to Hogwarts.

Seeing that almost all of them were already full and many had already begun to move, Draco raced for the nearest horseless carriage that had just begun to move. He grabbed the bar on the side, and swung himself up onto the red leather-covered seat. As he settled back into the cushion, he turned his head and gave a start.

"Oh, it's you, is it," he said unenthusiastically, addressing Ginny Weasley. 

"You know something," Ginny said, sounding a bit more impatient than she had on the train earlier, "I would really like to know what I ever did to you, Draco."

"You were born a Weasley," Draco said simply and coldly, stubbornly refusing to look at her.

"That doesn't mean anything," Ginny protested persistently.

Draco sighed. Why wouldn't she just shut up? He was already annoyed about a great many things, he didn't want to deal with anything else right now, he had too much to think about, the main issue being how he was ever going to face his father again.

"I don't get it," Draco said finally, "I used to not have to talk to you, much less see you before. Now whenever I turn around, there you are!" he finished, throwing his arms up for effect.

"Maybe you just weren't paying attention," Ginny sniffed haughtily, not letting his words faze her, "You've just been focusing on other things."

"Like what?" Draco sneered, wondering what she could possibly say in answer to him.

"I don't know," Ginny said lightly, a hint of ice seeping into her tone, "Being rude to people, failing all your subjects, conversing with Pansy Parkinson."

Draco gaped at her. "How did you know that I was failing everything?" he asked in amazement.

"I didn't!" Ginny cried, outraged, "I was just using it as an example!"

"Oh," Draco said, a hint of pink creeping into his icy cheeks, "Well, how did you know about Pansy then?"

Now it was Ginny's turn to gape. "Any complete idiot can see that you fancy her, Draco," Ginny said like she was talking to a rather dim child, "You two are always together. In class, at meals, during Hogsmeade visits…"

"All right, I get it," Draco said shortly, silencing her, "So what? What's it to you? Why do you suddenly care who I hang around with, especially if it's someone as sniveling, dull and monotonous as Pansy?"

Ginny looked at him, doubt wrinkling her forehead. "If she's so horrible, why are you with her so much?" she asked, genuinely confused.

Draco shrugged. "Because her father is a friend of my father, I suppose," he said.

Ginny's eyes widened. "But my father was a fr-"she began forcefully, but stopped in mid sentence and looked the other way.

Draco glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. What was she talking about? Did she almost just say what he thought? Was she insane or something? Suddenly, he felt very uncomfortable in her presence and hoped that the carriage would stop soon.

"Look, Weasley," he said quietly, "I don't know what you are on about lately, but let me give you some advice. I'll leave you alone willingly if you stay away from me. I have other things to worry about besides a crazy redheaded girl who thinks she knows more than she actually does."

As Ginny faced him once more he was surprised to see that she was crying, wet patches on her freckled cheeks.

"You don't even know, do you?" she sobbed, half crying, half screeching, "You have no idea what it's like! I would have thought you'd know! Your father must!"

Draco was getting very nervous. Whatever Ginny was so upset about definitely had to do with the Malfoy family, namely Dracos father. It seemed quite impossible to Draco that anything to do with the Weasleys would have anything to do with the Malfoys, but all the same, he would feel better once he talked to his father again. But that might not be until Christmas, Draco thought, irritated. Maybe he could convince his father to come down to the school, or arrange to meet him on the first Hogsmeade visit.

But in the meantime, Draco mused, uncomfortably looking over at Ginny, I think I'll stay as far away from her as I possibly can.

The carriage lurched to a stop and Draco hopped out as a quick as a jackrabbit.

"But something tells me that is going to be a whole lot harder than it sounds," he whispered to himself as a light rain began to fall from the velvet black sky.

*          *          *

The inside of the entry hall in Hogwarts seemed exceptionally bright and warm compared to the now dismally black sky that was producing a heavy rainfall.

Draco took hold of his long sleeve and wrung it out onto the stone floor being careful to let the water slosh over a fifth year Ravenclaw's shoe. She gave him a dirty look. Draco grinned.

Professor McGonagall, looking severe in her usual hairstyle of a tight bun, greeted them formally. Then the doors to the Great Hall opened, revealing the splendor of the glittering plates and goblets.

Draco noticed that Crabbe and Goyle had suddenly stopped looking lost and had raced through the doors to the Slytherin table. The only time Draco ever saw them run was when there was food involved.

He finger-combed his sleek hair, trying to shake some of the water out of it, then slinked over to his seat at the center of the long Slytherin table.

He nodded to his year mate, Blaise, who nodded back smiling.

"Draco!" Blaise said from across the table, "How goes it, mate? I didn't hear from you all summer. Usually our dads get together and play billiards, drink a glass of expensive champagne and plot the destruction of people and what not."

Draco chuckled. "My father does that every day, sometimes with more than one glass of champagne."

Blaise laughed just as Professor Dumbledore rose from the head table and began to speak.

"My dear students," he called, his wispy voice echoing of the walls, "Today begins another year for you at Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardy. As you all know, we are experiencing some rather unfortunate events in the wizarding world at this time since the Dark Lord has risen again. Do not be alarmed however, for Hogwarts is one of the safest places you can be."

Draco wondered if Dumbledore remembered what had happened five years ago when Voldemort had come back in the form of a memory inside the very walls of Hogwarts.

"I don't want to stand here any longer and delay your meal," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye as he looked over the faces of the hungry students. "So first, the sorting!" he shouted enthusiastically. 

Blaise and Draco both groaned.

"I'm so hungry I could eat someone," Draco moaned, rubbing his empty stomach, "Oh look, a nice plump Hufflepuff. Where's my fork?"

*          *          *

Ginny watched as Professor McGonagall led the line of first years down to the head of the hall. All of them looked very nervous, as she had been on her first day at Hogwarts.

As McGonagall placed the sorting hat on the stool, Ginny heard a whispered conversation creep into her ears.

"But he is absolutely gorgeous!" a high, giggly voice sounded, making Ginny raise her eyebrows.

Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil were at it again. The resident gossip queens of Hogwarts. The only girl who could rival their unflinching love of potential slander that could ruin someone's reputation was Pansy Parkinson.

"If only he were a bit nicer," Lavender sighed, stretching her neck and trying to get a better look at someone across the hall.

Ginny followed Lavenders gaze. She seemed to be looking at the Slytherin table.

"Who are you talking about?" Ginny hissed at Lavender and Pavarti, who looked at her indignantly like she had been butting in on an exclusively private conversation.

"Draco Malfoy, of course," Pavarti said in disbelief, as though anyone who didn't think Draco was handsome was either blind or dead.

Ginny wrinkled her brow and looked over at the Slytherin table. Draco was sitting across from Blaise Zabini, the two of them conversing in low whispers. 

"Don't you think he is just completely wonderful?" Lavender sighed dreamily.

"He could use an attitude adjustment," Ginny scoffed.

"He could use a girlfriend," Pavarti said adoringly, batting her eyelashes.

"He's probably gay," Ginny said grumpily, turning her attention back to the sorting and ignoring the alarmed looks Pavarti and Lavender were giving her.

*          *          *

"Flarestone, Dominic!" Professor McGonagall called, and a small boy with dark brown hair walked up to the stool and timidly put the sorting hat on his head. After a few moments, the rip in the hat opened to shout, "Slytherin!"

Draco clapped unenthusiastically as Dominic joined their table and sat on the far end near the head table.

"Anyway, Draco," Blaise said, ignoring the rest of the sorting that was going on, "Did you see Pansy over the summer at all? Or did you just shut yourself up in your Manor from June until August?"

"Naw, didn't see Pansy," Draco said shortly, "Good thing too. Every time I'm around her I feel like strangling myself to put me out of my misery."

"Well then, I suggest you get your noose ready."

Draco looked around, confused. Pansy had left her seat a little further down and was slinking towards him, a huge grin plastered all over her pug face. 

"Draco!" she whispered loudly as McGonagall began on the M's, "Hi!"

"Uh, hi Pansy," Draco said dryly, ignoring Blaise who was doing an impression of a person strangling themselves, hands clamped firmly around his own neck.

"It's so good to see you again!" she said a little too brightly, trying to push everyone who was sitting next to Draco aside.

"Watch it Parkinson," growled Raquel, a black haired seventh year Slytherin who had been seated to the left of Draco. Raquel had grabbed a hold of Pansy's arm as Pansy had tried to shove her to make room on the bench, and she was looking at her with an expression that told Pansy if she touched her again she would be impaled upon something very sharp.

Pansy looked at her, nose in the air. She snatched her arm away from her captures grip and stalked away huffily as McGonagall began on the very last of the names.

"Thanks," Draco said gratefully to Raquel.

"Don't mention it," the girl said, "It's not like I wanted that little piece of fluff hanging around next to me all through dinner. I'd like to be able to eat without listening to her prattle."

And with one last shout of "Ravenclaw!" into which sandy-haired Lauren Ari was sorted, Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll of names and sat back down at her place behind the head table.

Professor Dumbledore stood once again and raised his arms.

"And without any further delay," he shouted, "Let the feast begin!"

There was a loud gasp from all the first years as the golden plates and goblets were suddenly filled with food and drink.

"Yes!" Blaise shouted over the immense noise that was swelling up wonderfully in the huge room.

Draco grinned and grabbed a huge chicken leg off of the plate in front of him as he scooped a huge helping of mashed potatoes with his other. As he took a bite of the chicken leg he noticed that Crabbe and Goyle hadn't even bothered to fill their own plates with food off the platters, but had simply pulled the platters towards themselves and were now eating straight off the enormous dishes. 

"I forgot how good food tasted," Draco mumbled through a mouthful of carrots, "I was ready to seriously consider a Hufflepuff ritual roasting."

"Maybe we could turn it into a Pansy roast instead," Blaise chuckled, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice.

Blaise and Draco both looked over at Pansy. She was sitting moodily at her place, barely touching her plate of food. Mandy, another Slytherin was sneaking Pansy's pineapple slices off the sulking girls' plate with a smirk on her face while Pansy wasn't looking.

"Hm, no thanks," Draco said thoughtfully, in between bites of sausage, "I don't like my meat to have a bad attitude, it makes it taste terrible."

*          *          *


	4. Ch3

*          *          *

Ginny speared a boiled potato with her fork rather harder than necessary and shoved it into her mouth grumpily. She impatiently tucked a flyaway strand of red hair behind her ear and looked up to see Harry, Ron and Hermione watching her, identical expressions of alarm on their faces.

"Are you all right, Gin?" Hermione said gently, her tumbling, unruly brown curls quivering slightly.

"I'm fine," Ginny said impatiently, looking down at her plate and prodding her food. She poked at another potato miserably, wishing she could get out of the Great Hall, away from the presence of everyone around her. As she brooded, the swarthy face of Draco Malfoy began to materialize on the blank, pale potato. Ginny gaped in disbelief for a moment, then made a loud noise of outrage and smashed the potato to a pulp with her fork.

It was very quiet all of the sudden. Ginny raised her eyes from the demolished potato. 

"Uh, Ginny," Neville Longbottom said concernedly from a few seats down, "If you don't like potatoes, that's fine, but you don't need to get angry at them."

"And there _are mashed potatoes right here," Dean Thomas put in, holding up a dish of them, "You don't need to make them yourself or anything."_

Ginny closed her eyes, throat tight with outrage. What was going on? She wasn't going to scream, she wasn't going to scream…

"I'm fine," she said, the effort of trying to remain calm making her voice quiver uncontrollably, "I just need to get out of here, that's all." She threw down her napkin and began to stand up.

"Ginny, come on," Harry said, gently reaching across the table and trying to force her back down, "We all think it's better if you stay with us for a while."

Ginny's eyes suddenly looked like two dark, swirling masses of cloud, ready to burst at any moment.

"Oh really?" she said softly and dangerously, barely able to contain herself any longer, "And since when do you decide what's best for me, Harry Potter?"

Harry looked at her, eyes wide. He began stammering defensively, but Ginny cut him off.

"I am not a child, Harry," she continued in a penetratingly icy voice, "I do not take directions from you, or anyone for that matter. If you really wanted to help, you could have paid attention to me back when I was younger, back when I actually wanted you to notice me."

Harry gaped at her, so did everyone else in the area who felt that this was far more interesting than the food on their plates.

"If only you had had half a brain back then, Harry," Ginny said, shaking her head, "Then maybe, maybe things would have turned out differently. Now if you'll excuse me," she said delicately swiping away Harry's hand, "I'll be leaving."

All Harry could do was watch as Ginny Weasley strode purposely out of the hall, hair and robes streaming behind her in two rivers; one of shadow, and one of fire.

*        *        *

"Are you insane?" Draco laughed as he chewed on a green bean, "That is the most unfair question I've ever heard."

Blaise grinned wickedly. "I just wanted to see what you would say; I could use a good laugh."

"Asking me who I would rather snog, with the choices being Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode hardly qualifies as entertainment in my book," Draco shot back.

"But honestly, if you had to choose one…" Blaise promted, his grin growing wider, "Who would it be?"

Draco suddenly caught sight of something very odd. It seemed as though someone had stormed away from the Gryffindor table in a rage, leaving a beaten down and gaping Harry Potter staring after them. A red-haired, freckled someone…

"Ginny," Draco murmured quietly, craning his neck to get a better look at the Gryffindor table.

"Ginny?" Blaise said suddenly, giving Draco a look that suggested he had more than just pumpkin juice in his goblet.

Draco suddenly snapped out of his trance and looked at Blaise. "What did I just say?" Draco asked, alarmed. 

"Let me lay it out for you," Blaise said slowly, still looking puzzled, "You said that in a choice between Pansy and Millicent, you would rather get it on with…Ginny. Ginny Weasley."

Draco blinked, "Did I?" 

"Mate, I think we have to go get your little blonde head examined," Blaise told him directly.

Draco slowly picked up his fork and began eating again. Who cared what went on at the Gryffindor table anyway? Who cared about Ginny Weasley? Of course, how could anyone _not notice that scene? It looked as though Ginny had just shot down the famous Potter._

Meanwhile, Blaise was still rambling. "You've been off color a bit lately, Malfoy," he said lightly as he chopped up some broccoli, "I mean, even Pansy would be better than a Gryff!"

What was going on with Ginny, Draco wondered, ignoring Blaise. Why was she acting so different all the sudden?

"Seriously though," Blaise chatted on nonchalantly through a mouthful of lima beans, "Millicent Bulstrode even! Though she would probably take up the entire closet…"

"Shut up, Zabini," Draco yelped, startled, "I'm trying to eat!"

"Good," Blaise quipped, "Get some food in your stomach, then maybe you'll start talking sense again."

There were a few moments of silence between the two boys as they continued eating. Then Blaise gave a low murmur, "Ginny Weasley…" 

Draco looked up and stopped right in the middle of grabbing a few chicken wings off a platter. "What about her?" he asked suspiciously.

"Well, I guess I can see why you said what you did," Blaise said slowly.

"You can?" Draco asked, his face screwed up in confusion.

"I mean, she's not exactly hard on the eyes," Blaise chuckled in a low voice, a slightly sinister grin spreading across his face.

Draco dropped the chicken leg he was holding.

"All right," Draco said, wiping his fingers off on a green silk napkin, "Why don't we both admit ourselves to St. Mungo's? At least we can keep each other company."

"Oh come on, man!" Blaise shouted, waving a piece of corn on the cob around for emphasis, "Don't start with me when you know it's true."

Draco didn't answer, but ducked as bits of corn began to fly off Blaise's cob and pelt surrounding students in the face.

"I'm not saying anything," Draco said stubbornly. But he couldn't help picturing Ginny's long, red locks flowing down nearly to her waist, her dancing brown eyes and her small, fit figure.

Draco must have had a wondering expression on his face because Blaise said slyly, "Ah, now you see what I'm talking about. You knew I was right all along."

Draco sneered good naturedly at his friend. "Don't let it go to your head, Zabini," Draco said, then finished in a low whisper, "God knows it's big enough already."

Blaise's mouth dropped open. "Hey!" he shouted, pretending to be personally insulted, "At least I don't have more gel in my hair than a werewolf has fur!"

Draco threw a roll at Blaise, who didn't duck quickly enough and was hit smack in the face.

"Well, my friend," Draco said, leaning forward with a playful grin, speaking quietly and holding his wand up in front of Blaise's face, "Unlike a werewolf, I will not attack you unless I have a reason. Unless you are an insufferable prat of course, then you might as well drop to the floor when you see me coming."

*        *        *

The torches burned brightly in their holders as Ginny silently walked down the hallway towards the Gryffindor Common Room. She had thought about going outside for a while, but the pouring rain had convinced her to take a drier alternative.

She turned a corner rather slowly, kicking at the stone floor with her black strap-on shoes miserably and realized with a jolt that she was not headed in the direction of the Gryffindor commons, but down near the dungeon level of the castle.

"What on earth," Ginny wondered aloud as she noticed the dimness around her. She had thought she had been paying attention to where she was going.

Ginny heaved a loud sigh and began to turn around, back towards her own commons when she stopped, a fleeting sense of adventure coursing through her body, compelling her to walk deeper into the dungeons.

Ginny grinned, her bad mood suddenly not mattering much anymore. Hadn't she overheard a conversation that Harry and Ron were having last year? They had talked about a time they had actually gotten into the Slytherin Commons in their second year. They had spoken about the entrance being concealed behind a stone wall…

Ginny ran her fingertips excitedly over the bare, damp stones as she cautiously tiptoed down the narrow passage. After a few minutes of searching and finding nothing she suddenly felt a hairline crack in the smoothness of the wall. Her grin grew wider, but fell as soon as she realized she didn't know the password.

"Damn," Ginny muttered in disappointment, "Oh well, not like I really wanted to get in there anyway. They probably have all sorts of things in there to do with dark magic or something," she finished, feeling dejected. 

As she turned to leave she heard a kind of creak, a sound like stone scraping over stone. Ginny whirled around surprised to see a panel of the stone wall pushing aside to reveal an opening into a low room.

Ginny snorted, one eyebrow raised. "Dark Magic, it figures."

Very cautiously, she looked around. There was no one to be seen. Luckily, neither Filch nor Mrs. Norris had decided to begin patrolling the dungeon area yet.

Ginny slid slowly through the opening in the wall, pulling her flowing robes after her. When she reached the other side the piece of wall immediately slid shut behind her with a thump, making her start. She turned around and straightened up, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Oh wow," she breathed, eyes widening.

The Slytherin common room was elegantly decorated in many shades of green and silver. Numerous lamps were hanging from the low ceiling, illuminating everything in soft, green light. Surrounding the ornately carved fireplace were many high-backed, black chairs heavily gilded with silver. Beautiful green and black velvet tapestries adorned the walls, depicting silver serpents writhing and twisting around large letter S's. The cold, stone floor was covered in a thick green carpet and the walls shimmered eerily around her. On all the long tables, black, iron wrought candleholders stood, the metal twisting upward like vines, supporting the glowing candles.

Ginny walked over to one of the tables that stood near the fireplace and delicately ran her fingertips over the carved snake on one of the legs. Who knew that the Slytherin commons would be so elegant?

She tiptoed around the room, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Small statues stood in all of the corners, and she felt like they were watching her. Each was of the same man, holding a snake in each hand as the serpents wound themselves around his arms. Carved script on the bases read 'Salazaar Slytherin'. 

Looking at one of the lifelike statues, Ginny muttered with a grim smile, "You were one ugly git, Slytherin."

 As she shook herself mentally and began walking back towards the stone entrance, a staircase at the far corner of the room caught her eye. She walked to it and looked up into the shadows. Well, there was no one around to stop her.

As she ascended the stairs, she came to a large, circular room. Doors were lined all around the walls, each with a name plate on it.

"Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode," Ginny read, squinting in the dim light to see the names, "They each have their own room?" Ginny couldn't remember how many times she had wished for her very own room in the Gryffindor commons, but year mates had always shared one dorm, and that was the way it was. Ginny felt a little envious as she kept reading the names. As she made a full circle around the room, she stopped in her tracks.

"Draco Malfoy," she read, a slight grin creeping over her face. And on an impulse, hoping that there were no locks on the doors, she grabbed the silver handle and pushed. The door opened without a sound.

As soon as she stepped into the room, torches all around the walls burst to life with bright green flame and Draco's room was immediately illuminated. 

Standing against one wall was a narrow, black dresser. On top of the dresser the shadows of a few objects were outlined. Ginny walked over and inspected them closely. She grinned as her eyes took in the matching silver brush and comb with the bottle of hair gel next to them.

Next to the dresser stood a large oval mirror framed in dark oak. Ginny gazed at her reflection. She could just imagine Draco standing here every morning as he fixed his hair.

There was no closet, but a set of six silver hooks hung on a nearby wall. Five of the hooks held five perfectly neat, pressed Slytherin boy's Hogwarts uniforms. The last hook sported Dracos emerald Slytherin Quidditch outfit. His Nimbus 2001 was propped up in the corner next to it.

Ginny's eyes fell to the thick black carpet beneath her feet, then to the bed standing against the wall. It was very elegant, with a canopy of what looked like green velvet. The floor brushing curtains that enclosed it had been tied back with silver holders, revealing the green silk sheets and satin covered pillows. Embroidered in silver on the top sheet was 'Draco Malfoy'. The pattern carried through to the pillows where the initials DM could be seen in silver as well.

Ginny raised her eyebrows, a small smile inching across her face. Draco certainly liked to have things personalized. 

Ginny looked around once more. She suddenly felt a little sad. It was a very beautiful room, but it had a depressing air about it.

Without thinking, she sat down on the foot of the bed and rubbed her hands over the shiny, slick sheets.

"So this is what it feels like to be Draco Malfoy," she sighed, falling back onto the pillows.

As she was lying there, staring up at the canopy a wild thought crossed her mind. If Draco was a Deatheater, he would have to have his black mask somewhere in his room.

Ginny sat up quickly and jumped off the bed. It was an order from Voldemort that they needed to have their disguise with them so they could be wearing it when he summoned them. Ginny had concealed hers deep in her trunk that morning before she left for school, Draco might have done the same.

She quickly walked over to one of the trunks at the foot of the bed and wrenched it open.

"Books, parchment, ink," Ginny muttered as she rummaged through it impatiently, "Quills…where is the bloody thing?"

She snapped the lid of the trunk shut and moved on to the second one. It was empty.

"Robes must have been in there," she muttered, and moved on to the final one.

As she opened the lid of the last trunk expectantly, she restrained herself from letting out a cry. The last trunk was empty.

Standing up, hands on her hips, Ginny noticed the dresser. She nodded, seeing the vertical row of five drawers.

She pulled open the drawers in a frenzy and sifted through their contents. The first three contained nothing but spare socks and some extra green and gray striped ties. As Ginny opened the fourth drawer, she couldn't help but let out a stifled giggle. It wasn't everyday she discovered Draco's underwear drawer. 

As she struggled not to loose herself completely at the sight of the many green silk garments embroidered with the now familiar silver initials she reached out to shut the drawer, but a loud noise made her stop in her tracks.

Horrified, she ran to the closed door and listened hard. The sounds of voices and footsteps descended upon her ears. With a tremendous jolt Ginny realized that the Slytherins had just entered their common room.

Ginny froze. How had she lost track of time? The feast couldn't be over already!

The sound of laughter and people talking and shouting grew louder. Sweat began to pour down Ginny's face. How was she going to get out of this one?

Frantically, she flung herself under Draco's bed just as the rumble of footsteps coming up the stairs met her ears.

Under the bed, she found that she was accompanied by an old wizard chess set, an old broom and a book that looked as though it had been taken from the library. 

Ginny struggled not to sneeze as she breathed in grains of dust.

The sounds of Slytherins in the circular room were definitely audible now. She could hear them all shouting to each other mixed with the sounds of doors opening and closing.

With a rush of cold fear, she heard Draco's door open. A pair of shoes walked right by the bed and went over to the dresser.

Peering out just a tiny bit, Ginny saw Draco standing with his back to his bed, his blonde hair gleaming.

"Why were the torches already on?" Ginny heard Draco mumble to himself.

Ginny held her breath.

"Damn those ruddy house elves," Draco growled.

Ginny heaved a sigh of relief. Then a new pair of feet appeared in Draco's doorway.

"Are you coming down, Draco?" came the voice of Blaise Zabini.

"Yeah, in a minute," Draco said, his voice sounding confused, "You haven't been going through my underwear drawer by any chance, have you, Zabini?"

Blaise let out a snort. "Oh yeah, got to seize the opportunity, you know?"

"Shut up," Draco said, throwing a sock at him.

"It was probably a house elf, mate," Blaise told him, "A female one."

Draco snapped the drawer shut. "One of these days someone much less tolerant than me is going to decide they've had enough of you," he said to his friend.

"And it's because of that very fact I try to stay away from short tempered people."

Draco laughed, picked up his fallen sock and stuffed it back into a drawer.

Want to play chess?" Blaise asked, "Everyone is already down in the common room."

"Yeah, sure," Draco said, "Just let me find my set."

Ginny's heart nearly stopped. She stared at the chess set that was lying right next to her under the bed. "Bloody Hell," she thought to herself.

"I think it's under my bed," Ginny dimly heard Draco say.

She felt dizzy. There was no way she was going to get out of this one. Her face was burning hot, with ice cold sweat dripping down her cheeks. She saw Dracos knees as he began to bend down in order to see under his bed. This was it.

"Wait, that old thing?" Blaise chimed in, making Ginny's breath catch in her throat, "It's older than Professor Dumbledore. We can use mine instead."

"Well, all right," Draco decided, standing upright once more and walking out of the room with Blaise.

As the door shut with a click behind the two boys, Ginny stared unmoving at the floor. She couldn't breathe. That was too close. There was no telling what would have happened if she had been caught. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach thinking about it. Being caught in the Slytherin commons, in Draco Malfoys room no less, was not exactly something that she wanted to be caught doing on her very first day back.

"At least they're gone," Ginny breathed, her voice shaking. Then another terrible thought hit her as hard as if someone had slapped her. How in blue blazes was she going to get out?

Ginny began swearing under her breath. She couldn't go back the way she came because all the Slytherins were down in their common room.

Lying underneath Draco's bed, Ginny gave one last look around, sighed long and hard then propped her head up on her elbows. As much as she hated the idea, there was nothing to do but wait until all the Slytherins went to bed, and then make an escape.

"Oh lovely," Ginny grumbled dispiritedly, "I'm going to have to watch Malfoy change. This _is_ my lucky day." And with a groan, she slumped down and waited for nightfall to come and release her from her velvet and silk bedecked prison.


	5. Ch 4

*        *        *

Ginny had lost track of the hours she had spent lying under Draco's bed. She had also lost patience with his rooms given appearance of cleanliness.

"I do not care how neat the rest of his room is," Ginny muttered, attempting to shake dust out of her hair, "the world under his bed certainly isn't. House elves are probably afraid to clean under here." She caught sight of a very large dust ball and looked at it in disgust. "And I do not blame them."

With a sigh, she slumped down, resting her head in the palms of her hands. Why on earth did the Slytherin commons have to be in a dungeon? There were no windows anywhere to tell how late it was getting. And the torches on the walls of Dracos room had gone out with a small pop when he had left the room, leaving her in darkness.

"How late can Slytherins stay up anyway?" Ginny groaned, "What are they, nocturnal or something?"

Just when Ginny thought she was going to loose her mind from laying under the bed a sudden thought struck her with the force of a ton of bricks, she had never gotten to check the very last drawer of Dracos dresser! His mask that she had been searching for could be in there, and here she was, lying under the bed the whole time.

She began to slide out from under the bed just as the faint sound of the turning door handle sent a shiver up her spine. 

"Blast!" she growled, wondering how she hadn't heard the footsteps signifying the sudden approach. She quickly dove under the bed once more, wishing she could kick herself for being so stupid.

Draco Malfoy stepped in, the torches bursting to life once more and illuminating the room. Ginny stared intently at the fifth and last drawer as though if she looked at it long enough she would be able to see though it. Gritting her teeth together in frustration, she stretched her neck out slightly to see what Draco was doing.

He had walked over to the wall with all the hooks on it and had slowly begun to remove his black robe, his face expressionless. He hung the robe on one of the hooks and walked over to his dresser, opening the first drawer. He reached up and removed his tie, placing it carefully in the drawer. Next, he removed his socks, placing them in the drawer as well.

Ginny tried not to stare as Draco raised his arms to lift his gray vest over his head, ruffling a few strands of his blonde hair out of place as he did so. Ginny struggled to keep her breathing even as she saw him reach up and begin to unbutton his white, long sleeve shirt.

Ginny breathed in very sharply. Draco whirled around suddenly so he was facing the direction of Ginnys gaze.

Peering out from behind the length of green silk that hung over the bed, Ginny saw a confused expression on his face, as though he had thought he heard something but wasn't quite sure.

Ginny mentally scolded herself and clamped her hand defiantly over her mouth to keep herself silent, but as she did so, her hand slowly dropped to the floor once more as she took a good look at the boy standing in front of her.

Draco stood there in his black pants and unbuttoned shirt, a suspicious expression still on his face. Suddenly, Ginny forgot that this was the same Draco Malfoy that she had known for six years. His silvery hair looked sleek and almost molten as a few strands dripped in front of his eyes. For some reason, his skin no longer looked pale, but was bathed in the green light of the torches, which somehow did not make him look sickly, but as though he was bathed in the reflected flickering light of a huge emerald. His stormy eyes sparkled with silver flecks and his cheeks held a tint of raspberry, extremely well defined by his high cheekbones. 

Ginny could do nothing but stare. She felt as though she was drowning in his reflection, the silver from his eyes blinding her and sweeping her up in an endless stream of emerald light.

His shirt hung unbuttoned and limp around his figure, revealing a perfectly smooth, luminous strip of skin down to the top of his midnight dark pants, the blackness of which accented the rich ivory tones of his skin. Ginny could not help noticing that his stomach muscles were extremely well defined and lined in up perfect rows on his lower body. The arm muscles he had gained from six years of being a Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team bulged slightly through the fabric of his white shirt, making Ginny raise her eyebrows. All the students in Hogwarts wore the same uniform and robes which pretty much concealed any figure that anyone might have. She would have never guessed that the apparently scrawny and thin Draco Malfoy could appear this way. Well, she would have never guessed that she would be trapped under his bed watching him remove his clothing either.

As Ginny continued to gape uncontrollably, Draco gave a little shrug and turned back around, picking up his silver comb from his dresser top. He ran it through his silky locks a few times, parting it completely from its usual slicked backed state.

As Ginny watched, she tried to rip her eyes away from the vision, trying to force herself to believe that she was insane to be doing what she was. This was Draco Malfoy, the single individual person at Hogwarts who could really rain on her parade. Snape might be unfair and intolerable, but his threats and enmity towards the Gryffindors as a whole didn't penetrate Ginnys spirit in the slightest. He could be cruel, give extra homework and take away points, but in the end all his bad temper could do was cast a shadow on her surface.

Draco was a long, shiny steel blade, a perfectly smooth combination of deadly beauty with a poisoned tip. He could slice through any happiness or peacefulness with one swift slash, tearing through even the strongest person's emotions. And there was no hiding the look on his victims face once they had been chosen as the target for his next strike.

Ginny scowled, thinking of the countless times she had seen Draco in action. It didn't matter who it was, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors alike were all bound to experience the pain sooner or later. And that was the thing, there was no stopping it. Ginny had often wondered if Draco had merely decided to get up one day and said "I think I'll make a Hufflepuff cry today" or "Today looks like a good day for a Gryffindor to experience a sudden flying accident." He knew exactly what to say to strike combined sadness and fear into someone's heart as his hateful words struck like white hot sparks from his wand.

But for some reason, he did not look like the usual venomous snake he usually appeared as to the student population of Hogwarts. Ginny shrugged; maybe it was just because he thought he was alone in his room where no one could see that he wasn't wearing his trademark Malfoy sneer.

Ginny was abruptly brought back to the present as she saw Dracos hand move to the top button on his pants.

Ginny blinked. "No way," she muttered, turning her head away, "There is nothing anything anyone could say or do that would make me watch this, no way."

As she kept her head turned stubbornly, she heard the soft sound of a zipper, then the unmistakable noises of ruffling fabric. She took a deep breath, willing herself to keep her head turned away, but the more she thought about it the harder the task became. Finally, she turned, gritting her teeth together in frustration.

Her first reaction before she got a hold of herself was to realize that Dracos leg muscles were just as well defined as arm muscles, but they were quickly concealed along with his shiny, green silk underwear as he pulled on a pair of matching green pajama pants.

Draco didn't bother to put on a shirt, but climbed atop his regal bed, slid under the sheets and rustled around a bit, the mattress under which Ginny was concealed bulging slightly on the bottom, almost hitting her.

Ginny remained under the bed, still staring at the spot where Draco had been standing a few moments before. She was insane, that was all there was to it. Never in a million years could she have possibly imagined the scene that had just taken place in front of her eyes. A slight blush rose in her face as she remembered back to the days when she had worshiped Harry, fanaticizing in the form of a young girl's heartthrob. Nothing she had ever dared to imagine was anything like this.

"Whoa," Ginny muttered, shaking her head as though trying to sift through the different layers of her thoughts, "I doubt even Harry could look that wonderful in green silk."

When she listened to herself and realized what she had said, she rolled her eyes and made a small noise of disgust.

"Being in the Slytherin commons is doing things to my head," she whispered, "I need to get out of here."

Waiting for another five minutes wasn't so hard after the seemingly long hours she had already spent under the bed, so she listened until she was sure all of the students had made their way up the stairs and to their rooms.

When she was finally sure the last person had closed their door and gotten into their own bed, she slid out from under Dracos bed on her stomach, listening to the soft, steady sound of his breathing. As she stood up for the first time in what felt like forever, she brushed a heap of dust off of the front of her robes and sweater, which sifted down to the black carpet.

She strode over to the door and was just about to turn the handle when she looked back at that bottom drawer, a sense of foreboding overcoming her. She should check it; she might never get another chance. She took a step towards it, but a sudden sharp intake of breath from Draco startled her, and she quickly abandoned the idea with regret and stepped out of his room. As she descended the stairs into the main common room, she seemed to fly across the darkness of the space, her heart beating all the while with the fear that someone would suddenly emerge from the darkness and catch her, but she made it to the stone entrance, which opened automatically as she touched it.

Ginny swiftly exited the common room after one last fleeting look around, a million thoughts swirling about in her mind. And as she silently tiptoed her way out of the dungeons towards her own bed, she tried not to think about how innocent and harmless Draco looked when he was asleep, with his blonde hair strewn over the pillow and his pale lashes curled upon his smooth cheeks, for she knew all too well that a snake may coil up with vulnerability, but could lash out with deadly grace at any moment.

Draco rolled over on his back and rubbed his eyes, wondering how long it had been since he had gotten under his covers. He couldn't sleep, but that was nothing new. For a while now he hadn't been able to go one night without waking suddenly at least once with a terrible feeling of dread. He didn't know where the dread came from exactly; it wasn't always easy to think clearly in the middle of the night when his mind was so full and busy that he could not even keep his eyes shut.

Sometimes he wished he could just erase everything going on in his mind, everything that was causing him pain. The closest he had ever gotten to that feeling was back when he was fourteen, and that imposter Professor Moody had insisted on putting the Imperious Curse on all of the students. It had filled him with a wonderful, fleeting feeling, everything unpleasant seemed to be cast into shadow, concealed behind a curtain, not entirely gone but just knowing it was covered up was enough to make him feel better.

They were supposed to learn how to fight it. Fight the Imperious Curse. Draco hadn't been able to do it. Now, sitting up, sweat pouring down his face, he wondered whether the reason he hadn't been able to fight it was because he didn't _want to. The Imperious Curse got rid of his father, it got rid of his supposed destiny, and it got rid of his entire bleak history and future as a Malfoy. So what if it was an unforgivable curse? As long as he didn't have to deal with his muddled life, anything was worth it._

As he shifted some more under his sheets, he rubbed his hands over the cold, smooth satin, then up to his face, which was now streaked with tears as well as sweat. Smooth and cold. That was what he was. On the outside, at least.

Draco heaved a sigh. He would never allow anyone to see that there was more than one Draco Malfoy. They were only allowed to view one. Smooth and cold, always smooth and cold. On the outside, he kept up that façade. The Draco who could make people stop in their tracks and walk the other direction with a sneer from his lips, the Draco who didn't even walk into the library without making some sarcastic remark about one thing or another. Yes, that was the real Draco.

But there was more than one real Draco. What no one ever saw was the Draco who strolled through the vast, empty hallways at the Malfoy Manor, pitiful and helpless, the Draco Malfoy who woke up in the middle of the night with drops of water oozing from the corners of his eyes.

He shut his eyes tight. And they never would see them. He would continue to fight the pain his own way, without his other selves protruding through the one he had grown so accustomed to on the outside.

In a sudden rage, he reached up and wiped the tears from his face. He refused to let himself cry, even if he was alone. His father would be ashamed. But who really cared what Lucius thought? He was a thousand miles away, probably sitting in their drawing room having tea while reading the Evening Prophet and sneering at all the articles that he found disapprovingly decent.

Draco sat up quickly and opened his eyes as wide as they would go and stared at the wall opposite him. His eyes began to sting and sharp pricks of water fell onto his bed sheets. Draco did not close his eyes, though the stinging increased and a shower of tears fell and joined the others that lay in a small pool on top of the green silk.

He sat there in the dark, letting the water flow from his eyes onto his silk covered lap.

"Just to show you I do not care what you say, Father," Draco whispered into the silence, his voice shaking slightly, "I don't care one bit."

And when his eyes felt as though they had given up as much water as they could, Draco finally fell back onto his pillows and slept more soundly than he had in a long while.


End file.
